


Lost and Found

by acevael



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5312402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acevael/pseuds/acevael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many things Sole Survivor Princess Woodly expected from her new life after she stepped out of Vault 111, but finding true friendship and eventually love, in a jazz club ran by a robot was definitely not one of them.<br/>Five chapters for five important stages of a relationship between a girl who refuses to see anything bad in the world and man who sees nothing but bad, also featuring a Very Important Hat.</p>
<p>(There might be some very minor spoilers for Fallout 4 and the MacCready romance, obviously.)</p>
<p>(The minor character death warning applies to the very beginning of the story and some nameless enemies who were unfortunate enough to wander in the way of these two.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hat Visits a Bar

"It is very important that you never lose yourself, no matter how cruel this world gets. Promise me you'll always be my sweet little girl," her mother told her, pale and awfully skinny, kind smile under tired eyes. Nursing robots surrounded the hospital bed, while unfriendly machines beeped around the room in sync with her slow but steady, heartbeat.

Some of the doctors said she would be fine, because she was a fighter, and fighters always won the hardest battles. She was dead within a week, buried in the small cemetery behind the chapel on the edge of the woods.  
Princess, still Wilhelmina then, left town in a few days with the 7:20 coach to New York City, barely sixteen, with no plans or money, only an old beaten up suitcase in her hand, and her mother’s words burned into her mind.

She silently repeated them as she navigated through the noisy streets of the city for the first time looking for a shelter and food to eat, when months later her agent tried sliding his hand under her skirt, a few years after that as she studied for impossible exams at law school, and as she slowly gave up hope that true love would eventually come to her.

Then suddenly, almost like a miracle, happiness did find her, literally bumping into her in a bar preferred by law students, and Princess, reciting her vows on her wedding day, then holding her newborn son in her arms, planting kisses on his bald head, couldn’t imagine a world cruel enough to ever change her.

As she stumbled out from her cryopod and pried their wedding ring from Nate stiff fingers, tears streaming down her face, as she could only repeat the word “sorry” over and over, with her voice occasionally failing her, Princess remembered the old phrase again. She was certain the situation would not get any worse than this. Her husband, best friend and soul mate laid dead in front of her, with a gaping hole in his chest, her baby was gone, and there was no one to give her directions to find him. But she would be strong. With determination and her supposedly famous charm she would find Shaun, and they would live together as they were supposed to. Nothing has stopped her from achieving her goals before. Whatever waited for her outside, she would deal with it, and refuse to stand between her and happiness.

 

* * *

 

_(11.30. 2287 9:10am)_

She could have killed for a cup of fresh cappuccino and an issue of LIVE & LOVE magazine, even a two hundred year old one, and Princess was sure many have already tried. The coffee served in Rexford Hotel tasted like mud and radiation. Princess couldn’t quite describe what radiation tasted like exactly, but she was certain she could feel it on her tongue no matter how well she cooked her meals or boiled water. The ghoul serving breakfast was wearing an exceptionally cute pink dress and Princess was dying to know where one could buy nice clothes in the Commonwealth. It seemed like everyone was wearing rags now, including herself. Princess took a sip from her coffee and shuddered. The cutest accessory of her outfit, a sea captain’s hat, actually came from a dead body. _Ew_.

And it wasn't even _that_ cute. She wouldn't have even touched the dirty old thing before her time in the vault. Princess missed her pearls, the beautiful diamond earrings Nate got for her birthday, and the light blue dress with the ruffles that made her butt look amazing, and drove all the neighborhood women crazy with envy.

Oh, they might have given her polite smiles and humour her with small talks about the weather, but Princess knew exactly what they were talking about in book clubs where they _accidentally_ forgot to invite her.

She couldn't believe they were all dead and gone now.

"Can I just say how grateful I am for that place you offered in Sanctuary?" it was the Vault-Tec representative who suddenly appeared by Princess’ table, twirling his hat in his skeleton-like fingers. "I’ll be on my way right away!"

"Just take care on the road, alright? And if anyone gives you trouble, tell them the General sent you. I promise I’ll come visit as soon as I can," Princess gave him a sweet smile. Sure, she would have preferred to have someone else from the old world, like the darling Martha Jackson from 16B, or her hairdresser, or Nate…

But she was thankful for the acquaintance nonetheless.

As soon as the ghoul disappeared, Princess closed her eyes, as if that could make the taste any better, and downed the rest of her coffee. She had a busy day ahead of her full of shady figures and even shadier businesses in the fine town of Goodneighbor, there was no time to sit around. She wondered if any of the old buildings housed a nail salon by any chance.

* * *

 

The Third Rail’s smoky atmosphere was finally something Princess was familiar with. She loved spending time in similar bars during her modelling years and men lined up almost every night by her table just so they could buy a drink for the girl they saw smiling from Nuka Cola billboards on the way to work. Most of them didn't expect more than a conversation or an autograph in return. The bouncers dealt with the rest.

Unlike those bars, no one knew who she was in this place. The ghouls quietly sipping their drinks ignored her, so did the robot behind the bar. Only the jazz singer in the breathtaking red dress noticed her, and gave her a playful wink, but Princess suspected it was part of the show. She still played along and rewarded the other woman with her most charming smile.

“Are we sure about this place, mum?” Codsworth asked, making sure he didn't float too far away from her. Princess appreciated his worry, but hoped it would be unnecessary. She just had to find someone who had information about Emogene’s whereabouts, maybe have a quick drink, and leave. It was rare that the Commonwealth threw such easy tasks at her. She almost missed the occasional horde of feral ghouls running towards her. _Almost._

The bartender was as good of a starting point as any. He must have heard rumours from the patrons, and Princess hoped he would repeat those rumours to her, if not for some gentle persuasion, then for a handful of caps she kept carrying in her pockets for similar situations.

"What can I do for ya?" Princess only just noticed that the robot was wearing a bowler hat. She couldn't help but wonder if Codsworth would tolerate something similar. Maybe she could get him a sailor’s hat. That would be _so_ adorable, and they’d be like a crime fighting duo straight out from a comic book! "You look like someone who is in serious need of a drink."

Did she really? Princess was proud of her hair looking as blonde and shiny as ever, and her face staying clear of injuries or even worse, blackheads, even out in the Wasteland, but the cleaning products she found were hardly the stuff she could afford before the War, and the roasted mongrel she ended up eating most days was far from brunches at the Boston Harbor Hotel too. A hot bubble bath would have been appreciated also.

"Not right now, thank you," Princess dismissed the robot with a wave of her hand. "Maybe after you help me a bit. I'm looking for…"

A loud crash coming from the back room, marked as VIP with some harsh neon signs, interrupted her words. It’s not like she didn't expect something similar to happen, just earlier that day she witnessed two muggings and almost a fight too, over a pack of cigarettes. Goodneighbor was clearly attracting all sorts of trouble, despite the mayor’s heartfelt speech about misfits and social rejects sticking together to live in harmony and peace, from the previous day. Princess knew if she stayed for too long, someone would eventually try to start trouble with her too. Fluttering eyelashes and hair tossing meant nothing in places like this. Which is why she also carried her trusted combat rifle on her back. _Latest model, straight from a dead raider, a must have accessory of the season!_

"Should we go and investigate, Miss Princess?" Codsworth asked. None of the security guards jumped to check out the noise, not even the singer paused in the middle of her song. Even the ghoul sitting at the bar continued to tell his joke about the feral’s missing leg as if nothing happened. Which, for some reason, made Princess curious.

"I’ll be back in a second for that drink," she told the robot behind the bar as she hopped off from her stool. She made sure her hat was sitting straight on her head and told Codsworth to follow her.  
Father used to say someday her curiosity will put her in danger and possibly even kill her. Those words seemed a lot heavier in the Commonwealth than in her teenage years when she would sneak into drive-in theaters to spy on someone’s cheating boyfriend.

She didn't know what waited for her in the dodgy little room which, with its flickering lights and beaten up furniture, was far from any other VIP lounges Princess has ever been to. For all she knew it could have been a pack of mole rats tearing up the place.

But the familiar rush in her veins, and the tingling in her palms made her feet move forward.

When she saw two mannequins lying on the floor, Princess automatically reached for the gun on her back. The familiar touch of steel reassured her that she would be able to defend herself if things got out of hand inside. And of course there were Codsworth’s hidden talents with the flame-thrower as well.

Princess expected to witness a fistfight. Or even a horrible duel between a poor soul and one of those horrifying creatures people called Deathclaws. She was not, however, expecting three pairs of eyes turning straight towards her as she entered the room. Two men were standing up, arms crossed across their chests, bandanas covering most of their faces. They clearly wanted to look intimidating and their plan succeeded. It is why Princess didn't understand why the third man was sitting so calmly on one of the old couches, drink in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other.

"I am… so sorry to interrupt," Princess said, slowly moving her hand away from her gun. "This is not the ladies room."

"It’s alright, these two were just leaving," the man on the couch said, with an amused smile on his face. The way the other two tensed, Princess was surprised they didn't shoot him on the spot.

"This is far from over, MacCready," one of them said.

"Sure, whatever. Your ugly faces are distracting me from my drink, so…" the man on the couch, MacCready, the walking boulders have called him, shrugged and took a sip from his glass.

One of the thugs grumbled something about feeding MacCready his own leg, then waved to the other one to follow him. On their way out of the room both of them bumped into Princess’ shoulder despite having plenty of space to walk around her. _What an unnecessary showcase of masculinity…_

"I’ll be on my way as well. Enjoy your drink!" Princess nodded to the man called MacCready, and was ready to turn around and leave when he started speaking to her.

"You look like you need a companion," was all he said.

"Excuse me?" Princess was ready to start telling him that she was her own woman, that she did not need to rely on a man to escort her around town, as if she were a fragile porcelain vase, and just because they spoke two sentences does not mean he’s welcome to join her in her hotel room either. But before she could open her mouth she spotted a sniper rifle leaning against the wall next to MacCready’s couch. Oh, he meant _that_ kind of companion.

"You don’t know me, why would you want to help me?"

"You barged into a room without knowing what was happening in here, with a rifle on your shoulders. Something tells me you have some interesting adventures. Besides, I wouldn't do it for free."

"You’re a mercenary," Princess sighed, suddenly feeling really stupid. "That’s why those other two wanted to kill you."

"Among other things, yes," MacCready nodded. "250 caps upfront and I’ll shoot whatever you need. Won’t even say a word."

Princess tried examining his face, but with the poor lighting and a hat covering his eyes, it was hard to get a good look. She did need all the help she could get to find Shaun. 250 caps was all she had, however, and she wasn't sure whether or not the two walking boulders would eventually be back to hunt MacCready down along with her, if they were travelling together. But he seemed like someone who would know the Commonwealth and its dangers very well, and having a sniper rifle watching her rear could be even more useful.

"I’ll give you 200 and another beer," she finally told MacCready, who then answered with a humourless chuckle. He stood up lazily from the couch, put the unlit cigarette behind his ear and stretched his arms.

"Nice hat," he nodded towards Princess as he walked past her. Going to the bar, no doubt, to collect part of his payment.

Princess couldn't hide the wide grin that suddenly spread across her face. Could this be true? Were there actual people who still cared about the small things in life, such as the importance of a fitting hat? She shouldn't have been surprised. As one hat owner to the other it was only evident that MacCready would compliment her choice of accessories.

"You really think so? You wouldn't believe how happy I am to hear this! I wasn't really sure about it at first, I never really liked hats, they always mess up my hair big time, but when it’s so hard to come by actual accessories, we have to experiment a little. So when I saw it, I told myself that…" Princess looked around and saw that MacCready was long gone and busy chatting to the singer by the bar. "That he was being sarcastic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of explanation about Princess' name: she started out as a joke character when I learnt that it's one of the names Codsworth can say in game. I did not expect to get into Fallout 4 this much, or for her to gain an actual personality, or that I would fall in love with any of the companions, let alone the grumpy sniper. So this happened. What can you do, right?
> 
> Comments and kudos are always loved and appreciated!


	2. The Hat has a Past

_(01. 15. 2288 7:45am)_

On most mornings Princess could feel the bed physically holding on to her as she slowly listed all her tasks for the day in her head. It wasn't too comfortable, full of loose springs poking her back, and the itchy little blanket she had to use was far from the goose feather duvet they shared with Nate. But thinking about her duties and missions made her want to hide in the bedroom for the whole day, head under the pillow, shouting “just five more minutes!” at anyone who stopped by her house.

It was all too much. Preston wished to visit at least ten potential settlements to strengthen the Minutemen, those guys holed up in the Cambridge Police station calling themselves members of of a Brotherhood wanted to use her to find their missing scouts, and every time she stepped outside her house, she could feel Mama Murphy’s unseeing gaze on her back, begging for chems. And Princess Woodly would definitely not be the cause of an old woman’s death, no matter how intriguing her so-called prophecies were.

And worst of all, she wasn't even close to finding Shaun. It’s been three months since she left the vault and entered this strange new world, three months she spent doing mundane tasks fate threw at her, when she should have been out there, looking for him.

She just wanted to turn invisible for a day. To go on a walk with Dogmeat on her side, playing fetch along the once beautiful river, or at least spend time with someone who didn’t expect her to solve all the world’s problems with a wave of her awfully dry fingers. _Seriously, did nobody think of moisturizing in the past two hundred years? Was dry skin something people just accepted when the bombs fell?_

“This is by far the most bored I've been in my life. Ever.” came a voice from outside her broken window, and Princess dared to take a peek from under her blanket. MacCready was talking to one of the settlers, well, rather complaining loudly about the sun being too hot, the shade being too cold, Sanctuary being too quiet, and the water tasting like dirt, while the settler sometimes nodded and reluctantly agreed with him. She didn’t talk much to the mercenary since she hired him in Goodneighbor, because he was bitter, mean-spirited, and never failed to laugh when he saw her carefully putting her hat on top of her head, then spent another ten minutes making sure it sat there perfectly. “Not taking chances with awful hat hair” she called it, “being the single most vain person in the entire Commonwealth,” he said. He was unpleasant all around, and… he was actually who she needed.

Princess jumped out of bed, and quickly changed the raggedy old shirt she used as a nightgown to a leather jacket and jeans she found lying around in the house that once belonged to the snooty Smith family, along with the odd pieces of armor she gathered along the road. She ran out the door without her boots properly zipped up, but made sure to put the hat on her head. As she shuffled out the front door, yanking the boot on her foot with one hand, trying to secure her chest piece with the other, Princess almost slammed into Preston.

“Well, you look very eager today, General,” he chuckled.

“As you always say, loads to do in the Commonwealth,” she shrugged and with a friendly wave made her way to the small garden where some settlers tended the crops and where MacCready decided to hang out for the day, and most likely bore everyone to death with his whining. So, she was actually helping the community by planning to drag him away. The _Most Likely to Save a Kitten in a Fire_ girl from the high school yearbook still lived in her.

“Hey, MacCready,” she stood in front of him, shielding his body from the sunlight.

“Oh you finally decided you need me after hiring me and then dumping me in the middle of nowhere to go and play heroes with your buddy, Preston,” he sighed. Just like during their first meeting he played with a cigarette between his fingers, except this one was lit.

“I know, I'm sorry, and it’s why I came here to ask you to come with me. It’s a very important mission.”

“If you say so,” MacCready shrugged. “I doubt anyone would miss me here.”

Princess doubted that too.

* * *

 

“So what is this very important mission you were talking about?” MacCready asked as they made their way across the bridge leading to Sanctuary and past the old Red Rocket Truck Shop. Dogmeat was trailing behind them, sometimes running off excitedly to chase some molerats back to their holes.

“Shopping, duh,” Princess grinned at him waiting to see a similar excited smile on MacCready’s face.

“Oh, as in buying more of that junk you make me carry around? Yay!” MacCready imitated Princess’ voice, and he did it well.

“You said it yourself. I never go out with you, even though I paid for your services, so now you get to come and explore the Commonwealth, and its many... wonderful vendors with me. Maybe we could also get to know each other better,” MacCready didn’t answer so Princess gently nudged his shoulder with hers. “I’ll start. What’s your favourite colour and how would you describe your ideal day?”

“Green. And one that doesn't end with me getting killed.” MacCready answered and reached into his pockets for yet another cigarette.  
He clearly didn't want to talk, and Princess suddenly started regretting her decision to bring him along. They were still just an hour away from Sanctuary, they could have turned back and pretend the whole awkward conversation never happened. It took her two hundred years frozen deep inside a vault to realize that not everyone would always like her, and that she should be fine with that. Preston would have loved to talk about his favourite colours and the victorious day when the Minutemen return to the Commonwealth in all their previous glory.

“What are yours?” MacCready asked so suddenly, the sound of his voice made Princess wince.

“Well, my favourite colour is pink. And my ideal day would be going to the park, not one of these awful ruins that are probably full of rusty toys and various diseases, but a lovely one, from before the war. I would have Shaun in his stroller, Nate on my side, Codsworth would be there to get us some cold lemonade. At the end of the day we would watch a free concert if the weather's still warm, and the smell of cherry blossoms would fill the air along with the sounds of the band playing and children’s laughter,” A gentle shiver ran through Princess’ body as she imagined the scene. She could almost feel Nate’s arms around her shoulder, and the evening breeze playing with her hair.

MacCready closed his eyes and took an unusually long sip of his cigarette with shaky fingers.

_Oh goodness_ , he was utterly disgusted with her and her sappy little fantasies.

“Never mind, let’s just move on. It’s not going to happen anyway,” Princess shrugged.

“No, it was… alright,” MacCready nodded and even gave her a faint smile. He had a really warm smile, one that seemed to even brighten their surroundings a little. Too bad he didn't share it with the world very often.

They stayed silent as they walked around the road, occasionally bumping into a car wreckage, or a fallen tree, but the silence didn't feel awkward anymore.

If Princess’ map was correct they were only a few miles away from Trudy’s diner. The old woman promised to keep an eye out for some special items for her ( _Hair curlers, please Trudy, I would pay a thousand caps each!_ ) and she always had a few rags that, with a bit of sewing magic, had the possibility to turn into something wonderful.

“Whatever you say, just lead the way and I’ll follow,” MacCready shrugged.

Trudy’s Diner was the closest thing Princess found to an actual shop. It didn't have long rows of aisles filled with groceries where she would wander for hours thinking about meals for the upcoming week, and most of the goods she sold were useful in self-defence, not organizing a dinner party, but was still more familiar than traders roaming the roads of the Commonwealth with their caravans.

“Sorry Miss, no luck with those beauty products you asked for,” Trudy said as soon as Princess stepped inside the diner with MacCready and Dogmeat closely following her.

“Please don’t give up searching!”

“Wasn't gonna. Now, you buying anything else?”

Princess did need a few items, Preston gave her a list of things that would make settler’s lives easier, from blankets to pistols and seeds, but it was her unofficial day off, those obligations remained for another day. Shopping was strictly for her own pleasure to calm her nerves. Princess knew that eventually she would have to give up her old hobbies and possibly find new ones instead, but for the moment it felt good to hang unto them.

“Two bottles of Nuka Cola, please, and I would love to take those sunglasses you showed last week, if you still have them. Oh, and that light blue fabric, you know the one with the small flowers. I found some half-burned pattern of a skirt, and I think it would look lovely!” Princess clapped her hands in excitement. “Can’t think of anything else, unless you also want something,” she turned to MacCready.

“I'm good,” he nodded, but then his gaze slowly wandered onto an old comic book stand by the counter and his eyes immediately lit up. “No way! Is that the 2073 Christmas issue of Grognak? I’ve been looking for it everywhere! Some people say no copies survived the war, but I heard a guy talking about it once, and I thought he was full of it until he explained the plot in full detail. Oh man, this is the greatest day of my life!”

Princess could only watch in disbelief as MacCready paid about half of his fee on the comic, then settled down in a booth next to a skeleton, putting his legs up in the bench and the comic on his knees like a kid.

“I can’t believe this! I've been looking for this so long, it feels weird to just sit down and read it like it was any other issue, you know?” He seemed so different. Even the little wrinkles disappeared from around his eyes, and he smiled so wide Princess could spot small gaps between his teeth. All that, thanks to an old comic book. If she knew that a centuries old action story would make him this excited, she would have shared her collection with him a long time ago.

“Don’t mind me, just enjoy your comic!” Princess nodded as she slid in the booth as well. She put one of the Nuka Cola bottles in front of MacCready, then carefully wiped the other one with the sleeve of her jacket. Once she was certain there were no unwanted germs remaining on it, she popped it open and tossed the cap in front of her companion.

“What’s this supposed to mean?”

“A little extra, for coming with me today.”

“Gee, aren't you generous, boss,” there he was, the good old MacCready, with his sarcastic tone and judging look.

Princess shrugged and took a sip of her drink. MacCready shook his head and immediately buried his face in the comic, but strictly after he put the extra cap in his pocket. He didn’t even reach the first page of the story, when he suddenly lifted his gaze to Princess over the cover. He examined her face for a few seconds, then looked at his comic again, then back at her face once more, with the look of someone who witnessed two deathclaws dancing the tango.

“Is... everything okay?” Princess asked after it happened a few times and MacCready’s eye grew wider and wider. Was there something on her face? Was she walking around with terrible bedhead the whole day? Did she have a zit on her forehead she failed to notice?

Could you… lift your Nuka Cola bottle to your mouth?” MacCready asked. “And smile a little too, with your hat pushed back further a bit?”

“What…” Princess laughed and started examining the cover of the comic. It featured a brunette on Grognak’s side, so it probably wasn't the resemblance between her and the half-naked damsel in distress that caught MacCready’s attention. And then she noticed the date on the corner of the magazine. 2073. Oh no. _Oh fuck no._

“MacCready… Give me the magazine, now!”

“Holy heck! This is you! This is really you!” He laughed.

“I said, give me the comic!” Princess lounged forward, but MacCready was faster and immediately got out of the way of her grabbing hands, holding the comic above his head, without the grin leaving his face for even a second.

“Does anyone else know about this?” he asked, and looked at the picture again. Princess didn't have to see it to know what was in it.

2073 was the last of her modelling years, the one where out of thousands of applicants she was chosen as the face of the most popular beverage in America for its holiday campaign. If she was correct, the photo in the magazine had her posing in dark blue bikinis on a sandy beach (an unimpressive studio in reality with an awful snack bar), a hat that was similar to the one sitting on her head at the moment, holding a bottle of Nuka Cola in one hand, saluting with the other, winking at her audience as if everyone who ever looked at the ad was her secret lover. There were complaints at the time that the campaign featuring her photos was less family friendly as it should have been, and for a while Princess was stupidly proud of her achievement. Two hundred years, a law degree, and a marriage later, pride was replaced by sheer embarrassment.

“You tell anyone, you’re a dead man, MacCready!” Princess hissed. True, having all sorts of responsibilities was tiring, but she did not want to risk losing everyone’s respect because of something as ridiculous as this. It happened all the time before the war, and she doubted people would react differently now.

“Are there any others?”

“No,” her face turned red. What were the chances that any of the other photos survived anyway?

“If you say so,” MacCready nodded and returned his attention to the comic. He actually started reading it this time, but the smile remained on his face until he finished, and gently laid the paper on the table.

“How was the story?” Princess asked playing with the empty Nuka Cola bottle between her fingers.

“I don’t know, Sailor. I had a hard time concentrating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I had Fallout 4 for over a month now and still haven't finished the main story campaign? But I do have a very cute house just for these two nerds and tons of unhappy settlements. 
> 
> That's not important.
> 
> What's important is this: thank you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, it really means a lot to me. You are all amazing!


	3. The Hat Takes a Hit

_(02. 03. 2288 6:50pm)_

 

“All right, all right… was he wearing just a tutu or full ballerina stuff?”

“The whole ballerina outfit. Even had his hair in a neat little bun. I'm not even sure he has any hair under that weird hood thing, but he had some luscious locks in my dream. But please don't tell him any of this unless you feel like eating a knuckle sandwich,” Princess looked at MacCready and after studying his amused face for a few seconds in worried silence, they blurted out laughing at the same time. She had to cover her mouth to avoid making too much noise, but every time she glanced at MacCready trying his hardest to do the same by biting his lips, Princess felt roaring laughter escaping her throat again.

They've been hiding in the storage room for almost an hour, waiting for the raiders to leave the building. During the evening a large scavenging group always visited the nearby ruins of the once impressive downtown of Cambridge to search for ammo, food, and other useful things. That was the time when Princess and MacCready chose to complete their job. Less people to fight meant more chance of survival. Besides, their own resources were running low, and they didn’t want to risk running out of ammo in the middle of the fight. It was MacCready’s idea, one of the better ones he had, even if it meant watching the raiders for days through the scope of his sniper rifle to study their routines, while Princess tried her best to get the mud, blood and the dirt of the road from under her nails with the help of some water and an old sponge. It was hardly the heavenly treatment of Constance in Concord, but she started to learn some new tricks to help with her new life.

She realized that hot irons were perfect to curl her hair if she was careful enough. With a little help from Curie and science, she mixed her own red nail polish. She found out that tarberry juice was exceptionally good as conditioner, and some of the older ghouls had excellent advice on applying 200-year old, dried out lipstick and make it look acceptable. It was amazing how far a little determination could take her, along with the rest of humanity.

“Are you sure we can’t just go in and talk to them?” Princess whispered to MacCready as their laughter slowly faded, the image of the tutu-wearing Paladin Danse left her mind, and the explorer group began their movements outside.

“How long have you been out of that vault?” MacCready asked as he grabbed his rifle and gave it a loving pat on the barrel.

“Three months, eleven days, about nine hours and forty-five minutes. But who’s counting, am I right?” Princess shrugged. She was fully aware of the time she spent wandering the Wasteland, every night she cursed herself for not being able to find Shaun for yet another day, and every morning she woke with the thought that _today, today could be the day_. She was getting closer, with Kellogg being dead she had… something, but not nearly close enough.

“And how many times during those three months someone or something moved out of your way because you asked nicely?”

“There was this one time I met a guy in a shady little bar, in an odd neighborhood run by a ghoul. I was certain he would shoot me for a second because I interrupted a meeting between him and some old… _acquaintances_ , but we ended up being friends. No one even got their guns out.”

“Well, he sounds like a real pain to deal with. You should have shot him.”

“And lose someone who has the perfect sarcastic comeback to everything I say? Never! And hello, you should see his butt!”

Princess tried to keep her tone light, but maybe to her biggest surprise, she meant every word she said. Sometimes she wanted to slap and shake MacCready for having so little faith in everyone, including himself, and treating her like a naïve child, even after all they've been through together, but despite originally only being there because she paid him, he was a valuable member of her team.

And when he wasn't such a _pain to deal with_ lecturing her for being too darn nice and not standing up to people, or demanding reward for their generous help, Princess really did enjoy his company. He would hum songs as they walked the deserted roads that reminded her of the lullabies she used to sing to Shaun, and never missed to say something witty to the people they met, always making Princess chuckle in the most inappropriate situations. He even admitted that her hat did look nice on her head and as hard as he tried, he couldn't forget her photo from the comic. It only happened once, and he was half asleep after a night of drinking at Sanctuary’s makeshift bar, but Princess remembered it well.

And he _really_ did have a nice butt.

The steps and chatter of the raiders became more and more distant, until they could only hear two pair of boots patrolling the floor. The men outside complained about being tired, and always the ones to get left behind, simply because of that one theatre incident, and according to MacCready, the raiders were an easy target. As long as they had the element of surprise, which they clearly did by hiding among broken brooms and empty oil cans (“ _Don’t even think about picking up that junk, Sailor!_ ”), they would be done with the raiders without them even noticing that they've been shot in the head.

“They won’t even feel anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” MacCready put a hand on Princess’ shoulder. It wasn't what she was worried about it all. In fact, it was surprising how easily killing came to her as long as she distanced herself from her targets. She was only terrified of losing the girl who would get free dinners from rich businessman with her smile, and had anyone follow her wishes just by brushing her fingers through her long hair, to a new Princess, who answered every question with a shot from her combat rifle. A few of her companions shared her views of only turning to violence if it was absolutely necessary, and none of them were by her side at the moment. They would have to do this MacCready-style, no matter how scary that sounded.

“Ready to party, Sailor?”

“Let’s do this!” Princess answered MacCready with an encouraging nod accompanied by a convincing fake smile, and grabbed her gun. Before opening the door of the small room she gently brushed her fingers over the badge of her hat, which became sort of a ritual over the past few weeks. A simple gesture, but it brought the team luck in fights, got her through radiation storms with only a minor sickness, and ensured she would get the best deals from vendors. What started out as a piece of junk found on a dead body, slowly became the most important item in her life, and it didn’t go unnoticed among her friends either. Codsworth promised to take extra care of it in a fight, as if it was a special family member, and Piper offered to dedicate a whole issue of Publick Occurrences to it.

“Should have interviewed it instead of you when I had the chance, we all know who’s the real star here.”

Preston tried enquiring, politely, as Preston usually did when he asked something important, whether Princess would prefer a Minutemen hat instead, but eventually let the issue slide.

Princess even overheard a couple of young women in one of the settlements discussing their chances of finding something similar at a clothing vendor or an abandoned ship. Her heart swelled with pride every time she replayed the conversation in her mind. She always wanted to be someone’s fashion role model. It only took the nuclear destruction of the world and two hundred years for it to happen.

“Want me to keep an eye on that thing?” MacCready asked, nodding towards the hat as Princess slowly opened the storage door. “Fifty caps for MacCready’s Hat Babysitting Business, at least eighty percent chance of survival guaranteed.”

She truly considered accepting the offer for a second, fully aware that he would not let her get shot in the head anyway.

“Get us out of here unharmed and we’ll see about your payment,” Princess said, and held up her rifle ready to shoot anyone who would appear on the corner by surprise.

“Fine by me,” MacCready shrugged, and let Princess move forward as he quickly scanned the area through his scope. “Something’s wrong. There should be people here. You heard them too, right?”

Princess nodded. “But why is that bad? It just makes our job easier.” The terminal they were looking for, according to the data uploaded to her Pip-Boy, was on the other end of the corridor. Without any hold-up they would snatch the information in minutes and be back in a sheltered place not long after that. Princess was even in the mood to cook something for both of them. She collected more than enough ingredients for some soup on the road. Nothing she would have presented at the the annual neighborhood barbecue before the war, but a good enough meal by Commonwealth standards.

“No, it usually means… oh crap!” MacCready yanked Princess behind a wall just seconds before she heard the all too familiar _rat-a-tat-tat_ of a machine gun turret. Princess immediately closed her eyes, but the sounds of a wooden door slowly shattering under the heavy fire made it clear that whoever put the turret on the corridor, was fully aware of their presence in the storage room.

“You still think you’d be able to reason with them?” MacCready shouted.

“It could be a misunderstanding, we don’t know for sure,” Princess answered, but immediately regretted it when she heard MacCready groan next to her.

“What, you think they found some new methods to deal with rats?”

He was right, and deep down she knew it. She did sound like a child, with her high pitched whining and inability to accept the reality about the Commonwealth's deadliness. She knew clinging to the images of the peaceful Boston she once loved would eventually cost them their lives. Her companions counted on her, Preston almost treated her as a miracle sent straight from Heaven to bring peace to the world, and most importantly, her baby was still out there somewhere, waiting for her. She had to do better for them.

The turret suddenly stopped the violent firing, and Princess glanced at MacCready. The storage door turned to dust, the smell of gunpowder and smoke filled the air as they slowly peeked out from behind the wall. The turret seemed to have run out of bullets.

“Let’s grab that data and get the heck away from here!” MacCready said, and Princess couldn't agree more.

She stepped carefully on the rubble, holding her arm in front of her face, so she would inhale as little smoke as possible. It was bad enough to think about what it would do to her hair and skin, she didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening coughing her lungs out too.

“Lower your weapons and turn around. Now!” came a calm yet threatening voice from behind them and it seemed like MacCready forgot his own no-swearing rule for a second as he mumbled a quiet, almost inaudible “ _fucking damnit_ ” maybe hoping that no one would listen.

Princess slowly raised her hands to show that she did not plan on shooting anyone as she faced the two raiders standing in front of her. She could have easily pierced through their simple leather armor pieces with a single shot before they could move a step forward, or let MacCready do the same, but as she tried examining them to search for their weak points, she spotted a wedding ring on one of the men’s fingers. She knew what was going to happen. She heard MacCready’s voice in her head calling her a spoiled little girl unaware of the consequences of her actions, but she couldn't do it. She wouldn't be someone who tears a family apart, not after what happened with Nate, not after all the nightmares she had to go through night after night. No matter how rotten these people were, no one deserved that.

“I admit, this might look strange, and we don’t really have a good explanation…” Princess started. Just as she predicted, she immediately heard MacCready hissing behind her. _What are you doing?_

If only she knew.

“My husband and I…” she felt a blush creeping on her face as she said the word, and she wasn't sure if it was out of guilt, embarrassment, or something totally else. “Well, you see… we, umm…”

_We happened to stumble upon your well protected base of operation in the middle of our evening stroll. Yes, we always go on these romantic walks fully armed. Gee, have you seen what’s out there?_

One of the raiders raised his pipe pistol, but didn’t point it towards Princess. He was aiming behind her.

“Spit it out, lady, or your _husband_ gets a bullet in his head.”

_No._

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Princess was surprised how cold her voice sounded. It felt strange, as if it belonged to someone else, but somehow confident and threatening, and the look of confusion on the raiders’ faces gave her an extra rush of adrenaline that helped her continue. “You think we’re alone. I assure you, we’re not. You shoot us, within minutes the rest of our group will arrive to kill you and your friends, until the walls are painted red with your blood.” So what if she borrowed the lines from one of Nate’s favorite gangster flicks? It’s not like there was any chance of the raiders finding out.

“You’re bluffing,” the raider with the wedding ring said.

“Am I?” Princess raised an eyebrow, and slowly slid her hand behind her back, signalling MacCready to shoot the other guy. Hopefully, he would also somehow read her mind and not fire a deadly shot.

To his credit, the raider had some sharp reflexes and fired his gun the exact moment MacCready did the same. Two bullets flew past Princess’ ear, leaving a burnt scent behind where one of them touched her hair. Even worse, she realized as she reached immediately for her hat automatically: one of the shots actually made contact with the fabric. She could clearly feel the damage where the bullet grazed it.

“Now you’re royally screwed!” MacCready told the raiders in an amused tone, then immediately started chuckling at his own accidental joke.

“Motherfuck… You shot my leg!” one of them cried out, but the raider’s voice became a distant hum in Princess’ head. Her fingers slowly curled into a fist, and it took several deep breaths and some words of a long dead yoga-instructor to calm her down enough to not shoot everyone on sight.

“Focus your radio, I'm only saying this once: get the fuck out of here!” according to MacCready’s retelling of the story later, her eyes almost turned black as she spoke and her voice would have scared an angry deatchlaw away.

They got the data from the terminal and were on their way out of the building in five minutes.

* * *

 

They ate in complete silence in front of the old little wooden shack they found, and hoped no one would notice the small fire keeping them and the rest of the soup warm. Princess was aware that MacCready hasn't said a word since they left the raiders’ building, despite her trying to initiate several conversations, and even an “I spy…” game. It’s only been a few hours since they last spoke, but Princess actually missed him. What a silly thing, considering he was sitting right next to her, loudly slurping from his bowl.

“If you want… I can take a look at that,” MacCready said suddenly and pointed towards her hat. She placed it between them on some cement blocks, the bullet mark so painfully noticeable on the white fabric. She felt a sharp, stinging pain in her chest every time she looked at it.

“You’re an expert in hats now?”

“Maybe not as much as your Minutemen buddies, but you learn a few tricks when you travel alone,” said the guy in the coat with one missing sleeve, which he refused to fix.

“Go ahead.”

MacCready slowly lifted the hat from its sitting place, as if it were the greatest treasure of the Commonwealth, then carefully examined it from every angle as he quietly hummed to himself.

“Can you do something?” Princess knew she was being impatient, and that she should have kept her mouth shut before she annoyed MacCready again.

“Nope.”

“Oh.” she didn’t know what she was expecting. Certainly not MacCready to whip out a sewing kit, along with some linen and start fixing her hat right away. But something would have been nice. He always had ideas. Not always good ones, but it seemed like his mind was always working on something, no matter what. Most of the time they involved caps, but she would have paid a small fortune to get her hat back unharmed.

“I’ll tell you what, though,” MacCready twirled the hat around in his hands, then leaned forward, earning a surprised gasp from Princess, because just for a friction of a section she thought he would kiss her.

_Why would he do that? Why would she want him to do that?_

The familiar blush from a couple of hours ago returned to her face once again.

MacCready gently placed the hat on top of her head, his fingers lingering on her hair for few more moments than it was necessary. “It looks as lovely as ever, and it has character now. This hat saw some battles and survived, like… Manta Man, y'know in that one issue of the Unstoppables where he gets beaten up real bad, but still manages to save the day, right?”

“I don’t know… I was never… I mean, like… I never really read comics before…”

“Ever?”

Princess slowly shook her head.

“Man, your life sucked.” MacCready sighed.

He was sitting so close to her, with unusual kindness in his eyes and a gentle smile on his face, Princess suddenly had trouble finding her words. And when she did, she sort of hoped a deathclaw would come to carry her away: “ When you said my hat looked lovely… Is it just the hat, or do I also look nice?”

“Oh… umm,” it was the first time since they met that MacCready was completely speechless and not even the fire’s faint light could hide his crimson cheeks. “You know you look lovely, Sailor.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear you say it,” Princess smiled at him.

“But why?”

“Is it so strange that a young girl wants to hear some compliments after the long day she had?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but people compliment you all the time.”

_Yes, but I wanted you to do it, damnit._

“Righto. It doesn't matter. I'm tired, we have a long way to hike tomorrow, and I should go and pile up some Zs,” Princess stretched her arms as she stood from the broken patio chair, and already dreaded the night that was waiting for her in the smelly old sleeping bag.

“Wait, before you go I have to tell you something.”

Princess immediately froze in her tracks. The way her heart was racing she was certain it was visible from the outside like in the cartoons she used to watch as a kid, and there was no ways she would let MacCready see that.

“What you did back there with those raiders… threatening them just because they said they would kill me… no one has ever cared enough to do something similar for me before. I just… I guess I just wanted to thank you. And hey, it worked, right?”

“You just need to have a little faith, MacCready,” Princess nodded with a faint smile as she turned around to look at him.

“I know.”

It was a long moment, disturbed only by the peaceful cracking of the firewood, before MacCready talked again, this time with the usual lopsided grin on his face.

“And Princess, you look as lovely as a mountain of caps in your hat, but... it would be even better to wake up next to you in the morning when it’s not on your head.”

“You’re joking,” Princess said once she was certain her voice wouldn't shake. She didn’t want to think about a situation that would end in her waking up next to MacCready in the morning, but it happened anyway. This time she was ready to greet her red cheeks like old friends.

“Of course I'm joking. Now go to sleep, I won’t carry your body tomorrow when you’re too tired to walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's literally been what? Two months? I am so sorry. I really have no excuse, except for laziness and things like that. I promise the next one will come in less than two months, I'll start working on it tomorrow.


	4. The Hat Gets in the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: it's been so long since i posted a chapter i completely forgot about my own chapter format. good job, me. anyway it's been fixed.

_(04. 08. 2288 11:50am)_

There was something oddly calming about Piper’s office. Whether it was the quiet humming of the journalist herself as she drafted her brand new article, or the distant chatter coming from the market outside, Princess found herself sitting in the cosy little house every time she visited Diamond City, usually armed with sweets that immediately seduced Piper away from her work. With a plate of cookies between them, a bottle of beer in their hands, and their feet on the desk, Princess couldn't help but feel like she used to with her friends before the war. There wasn't  much to gossip about out in the Commonwealth, but thankfully Diamond City always had its fair share of juicy scandals, and who better to share them than a journalist?

"I can’t believe she would say something like that! In the middle of the Upper Stands, can you imagine?" Princess snorted, with beer almost coming out of her nose. In Piper’s companion it didn't bother her.

"How did her husband not get a heart attack right on the stop? I can’t believe I wasn't there!" Piper scoffed, and threw her reporter’s hat on the desk in front of her as if missing out on one interesting story would make her unworthy of wearing it.

"You know, in the old days we would have done this while getting our nails done in a salon, followed by lunch in a hip restaurant in town. Strictly salad, of course. We wouldn't want our husbands to comment on our weight!" Princess said as she took a small bite of a cookie. She was slowly getting used to the new tastes of the Commonwealth. Even the faint sour after-taste in her mouth after each bite started to become familiar and a bit less unpleasant.

"Good thing none of us are married then!" Piper laughed and stuffed a whole cookie in her mouth. Then almost immediately, in the middle of chewing, she grew paler than a ghoul’s week old corpse. “Oh, shit. Me and my damn big mouth, I'm sorry, Blue.”

"Don’t sweat it." Princess shook her head. The familiar sting in her chest was of course there as usual, but as she noticed with mild sadness, it felt more numb every time she thought of Nate. What started out as something that almost left her breathless and nauseous as she exited the vault was no more than a soft ache in her heart. She found herself forgetting more and more of him every day. She couldn't quite remember the sound of his laughter, the way he hissed when the pain in his injured leg was getting bad, or how his hair felt under her fingers any more. Princess was terrified of him completely disappearing eventually, the same way her mother’s image has faded in her mind, but she also didn't want to hold on so tight unto the past. There was a future waiting for her after all, and Nate would have wanted her to enjoy every second of it. He said so in those holotapes he sent her from the war when their fate was so uncertain pinned in the mountains surrounded by enemy troops, and she was certain he would say the same thing now.

Just like she tried explaining it to…

"Hey, you’re not listening to me!" Piper’s harsh voice suddenly cut through her thoughts.

"Sorry," Princess gave her an apologetic smile and immediately pushed the last piece of cookie in front of her friend as a peace offering.

"Don’t mind if I do! Now, are you actually listening to me, or are you still with…" Piper paused for a second and gave Princess a suggestive smile. "You know…"

"No, I don’t."

"Oh don’t do this to me, Blue. Sometimes you have this look on your face… like you just saw the most adorable dress in the world, but it was in the most expensive shop where you could never afford to buy anything, ever. Does that make sense?" Piper really enjoyed making Princess feel like home, her old home, by sometimes sneaking old world metaphors into her speech. And Princess was grateful for them.

"You have no idea." Princess sighed.

"You know I saw him in the market yesterday. He seemed grumpier than usual, didn't even try to flirt with me. You should talk to him."

"I have to go."

"Talk. To. Him."

"Goodbye, Pipes!"

"If you don’t do it, I will! And you wouldn't be cruel enough to put me through that!"

Princess was out the office door before Piper could properly finish her sentence. As soon as she got to a safe distance away from the building, she grabbed the hat from her head and shoved her face into it to muffle a scream.

* * *

 

They agreed that not rushing things would be best for them. They both had their pasts to deal with, along with the various tasks the present threw at them. Complicating things with whatever was going between them would have been potentially dangerous and incredibly reckless.

But Princess wanted danger. She wanted to be reckless. She wanted _him_.

_Talk to him_ , Piper said, as if she hadn't done that several times. All of their talks ended with one of them almost saying those words, whether it was a heated discussion, or just a quiet chat by the fire. Those annoying, simple little words lingered in the air constantly like dust after a radiation storm.

And Piper had no idea that just a week ago they got closer to settling things than ever before, not even far from her small office, actually.

It sort of just happened that the most expensive bar in Diamond City was left without a bartender. They had nothing to do with it, of course, and Princess didn't have nightmares about crates full of chems that were suddenly in her possession either.

It started out as a simple, friendly gesture, helping a sad man with his family problems. Accidents just happened when she tried being helpful, and this particular accident left her with various bloodthirsty and very curious individuals on her trail, hundreds of caps worth of Buffout and Psycho hidden under her bed in the lonely little boathouse she started calling home, and a key to the Colonial Taphouse that felt heavier than a missile launcher in her pocket.

MacCready immediately jumped behind the bar, and turned the radio on so Travis’ pleasant tunes could fill the quiet room. Princess sat on a barstool with hands nervously tapping on her lap. It didn't feel right. The snobby people of the upper stands should have been there, sitting around talking about whatever rich people talked about these days. But the bar was eerily empty. The news of Henry Cooke’s unfortunate meeting with a gun barrel travelled fast.

"What can I get you, miss?" MacCready asked with a serious tone, but as Princess lifted her gaze from her hands to look at him, he immediately flashed her a mischievous smile. "I'm sorry, I've always wanted to try this."

"Is that your dream? Being a bartender?"

"Well it sure ain't killing people for a living," MacCready snorted. "So, what are you having?"

Princess shrugged. "Nuka Quantum, and make it a double."

MacCready groaned as if she insulted his entire family, Grognak the barbarian, and his favorite gun in a single sentence.

"Or… you know, whatever you recommend."

It turned out MacCready’s recommendation was mixing all the hard liquor he could find in two pint glasses. He admitted that he wasn't sure whether his creation would kill Princess or not.

"But a good time is guaranteed before you pass out," he said as he slowly pushed one of the glasses in front of Princess. The liquid inside resembled the colour of the water flowing in the gutters and the smell wasn't much better either.

"You don’t happen to have one of those tiny, cute umbrellas, do you?"

"Jeez, just drink it, Sailor."

With that monstrosity of a drink it didn't take long before Princess was sitting on top of the counter instead of one of the many chairs, with MacCready's hat on her head falling in her eyes no matter how many times she pushed it back, her captain’s hat sitting a bit lopsided on his head in return.

"There is something different about you, Sailor," Princess said, deepening her voice in an attempt to sound like MacCready. "Did you get a haircut?"

"And you only just noticed? Why RJ, that is so rude I'm going to cry for an hour now until every last person and creature in the Commonwealth will try to cheer me up because I'm an actual fairy tale princess," MacCready let out a loud, fake sob, hardly being able to contain his laughter.

"That’s _so_ not what I sound like," Princess protested, breaking character immediately.

"Oh it is," MacCready laughed. "It very much is. But that doesn't mean I don't…" he sighed and shook his head. "When did this get so darn weird?"

"Maybe we just have a special talent to make it weird," Princess said with a sad smile and took MacCready's hat off her head. She felt vulnerable without it, especially seeing him still wearing her own. The hat was her armor. Awful at bullet protection, but very effective as she pulled it over her eyes when she was feeling embarrassingly sad, happy, or wished to escape a stressful situation by pretending it wasn't happening.

She only just realized how close MacCready was standing to her. Her legs dangling from the counter could almost touch his thighs, and if she reached out with her hands she would have been able to grab him and pull him even closer, just where she wanted him.

With courage granted by the strange cocktail she decided to do just that. Princess ran her fingers across his dirty green scarf, and slowly made her way to the collar of his duster.

"It doesn't have to be weird, y’know," she whispered as she curled her fingers around the smooth leather of the collar and gently pulled him close to her. She could feel his breath on her face, smelling the strange mix of alcoholic drinks and cigarettes, and she was painfully aware of her heart beating in her throat.

His face was mere inches away from hers now, she could clearly see his bright blue eyes even under the visor of her hat, and the small scar on his left cheek. She ached to pull him even closer, to kiss him, to bury her fingers in his hair, to sigh his name in a breathless whisper, but she was also damn scared to make the first move.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, but her words left her, so she just nodded as her heart was beating faster in an impatient rhythm. Princess closed her eyes, holding tighter onto his duster, and waited to feel his lips on hers with a smile. Every single second felt like an hour as he cupped her face in his hands, and whispered something that strangely sounded like “ _finally_ ”. Or maybe those were just Princess’ own thoughts.

Then, as if it were a romantic flick she enjoyed watching so much two hundred years ago, the bar’s door flew open, and one of Diamond City’s many guards stood there, obviously confused to find two heavily intoxicated people in a supposedly closed bar, holding unto each other closer than dear life. After an embarrassed cough to announce his presence, he informed Princess and MacCready that the bar was closed until further notice and they should leave unless they wished to get in trouble.

The next morning, as she was nursing the world’s greatest hangover with noodles, sort of wishing for the sweet embrace of death instead, a heavily disguised Deacon asked Princess to help with some “strictly confidential, Dez will cut our heads off if someone else learns about it” Railroad business, and she told MacCready it was time for them to part ways for a little while.

"Are you sure?" MacCready asked once again, and this time her answer was ready.

"I'm sure."

* * *

 

Strictly confidential Railroad business usually didn't mean a pissed off Mirelurk queen.

It sometimes meant unsuspecting coursers with mild annoyance in their eyes as Deacon emptied half of his magazine into their heads while Princess chatted about various made-up Institute businesses to distract them.

Strictly confidential Railroad business sometimes also meant delivering Tinker Tom’s trinkets around the Commonwealth’s tallest buildings like some sort of secret agent Santa. Those jobs felt more dangerous than assassinating highly skilled killers.

Princess often wondered, as she balanced on thin wooden planks on top of a once impressive skyscrapers, her vision slowly blurring, heart racing, nausea building up in her throat as she glanced towards the ground that was oh so far down, that maybe mentioning her extreme fear of heights before accepting the mission would have been a swell idea.

There were certain dangers attached to being Wanderer. But not a Mirelurk queen. Never a freaking gigantic ready-to-tear-your-guts-out Mirelurk queen, straight out of Creepsville, USA.

Princess needed a good old, stiff drink. Talking to Piper calmed her nerves a bit, and the cookies helped too, but it wasn't enough, and besides, her job wasn't done yet.

It was time to stop being Wanderer and become the General. Sanctuary needed glass. Repairing the old, broken windows became the pet project of a few settlers, with Sturges leading them. Princess knew she should have told them to bother a provisioner instead, delivering supplies _was_ their job after all, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Their smiles were so bright, under days worth of dust and dirt, and they seemed so excited to have windows of all things.

Once the Minutemen deal was settled, Knight Princess promised to search for a supposedly priceless document in the rubble of Downtown Boston, for the Commonwealth’s third biggest grump, Proctor Quinlan. She absolutely couldn't say no to that one. Not when she knew her reward would come in the form of petting a cat.

So many impressive nicknames and titles, all with their own duties attached to them, each heavier than the backpack she used to scavenge supplies in the old buildings. She thought she would get used to them, that time would help her with accepting her responsibilities. That obviously wasn't happening, because all she wanted was to hide in a corner and cry.

Standing in the middle of Diamond City market, with its loud merchants, bright lights, and a whole lotta mixture of smells, with not a single person acknowledging her presence, she wished she had more peaceful moments like this. Just being Princess. Or even better, being...

"Sailor?" the voice came out of nowhere knocking the air out of her lungs, similar to being pinned to the ground by a super mutant. Princess didn't want to turn around as she wasn’t sure what were the protocols of greeting someone who she almost kissed a few days ago. Would they continue right where they left off, pulling each other close in the middle of the city as if no one else existed in the world? Would there be sweet words whispered, followed by carefree giggles and happy sighs? Would the residents around them think they were the cutest couple they've ever seen and cheered as they witnessed their kiss?

"You… smell like death," MacCready said when Princess took a deep breath and finally faced him.

"And you are an ass," Princess sighed, rolling her eyes. To think that she fantasized of a romantic reunion…

_Silly. So silly._

"C'mon Sailor, you love it."

She did. She really did. With all her heart. Without any doubt.

"You know, next time you decide to go on life-threatening adventures, maybe you should consider bringing me along. I’ll be here. Counting the seats above the city. Getting drunk. Being forgotten." MacCready crossed his arms across his chest and let out a deep, dramatic sigh. He must have been aware that made her feel guilty enough to ask him to tag along, but he also wasn’t the only one with such manipulative tricks up his sleeve, and didn't have years of experience with a job where such things were expected, either.

"What would you say about visiting a crumbling building East from here, with a valuable document hidden behind locked doors and a sea of unimaginable horrors?" Princess lowered her voice, and stepped closer to MacCready, making sure to not actually touch him.

"Raiders?" MacCready raised his eyebrows.

"Most likely."

"A few ferals?"

"Make it a dozen."

"A lone deathclaw?"

"Anything’s possible." Princess purred, bringing her lips close to his ears, and letting one of her hands softly brush his arm. Finally, that was enough to break the smooth act MacCready put on, and his face turned a light shade of pink.

"You got yourself a date," he managed to say, but his voice was slightly higher than usual, and he awkwardly shuffled away from Princess, tugging on his scarf with shaky fingers. "Just um… just say the word."

* * *

 

_Anything’s possible_.

Words that should have never been spoken in the Commonwealth, ever. Not when crabs mutated into monstrous versions of themselves. Not when people used actual human limbs as decorations. And definitely not when green giants with nuclear bombs attached to their hands roamed the streets of Boston, shrieking with glee as they reduced everything around them into nothing but a gruesome mixture of blood, guts, and dirt.

Princess heard the chilling _tick tick tick_ of the bomb first. MacCready was still in the middle of a story about a dog in the cave where he grew up, when she grabbed his arm and froze in her place.

"What the…" MacCready's words stuck in his throat as his eyes met Princess’, quickly registering the situation.

_Tick tick tick._

The sound was slowly growing closer and becoming more urgent. The beast was near. Princess heard faint, roaring laughter, and the terrifying howl of the mutant hounds.

Not easing her grip on MacCready’s arm, she looked around, trying to remember everything she learned before the war about nuclear protection, desperately searching for a shelter.

There were a few destroyed cars on the streets, empty shells of the vehicles they once were. _Bad idea._

A dumpster without a lid. _Bad idea._

A Pulowski shelter, with its door pried open, a skeleton collapsed on the bottom. _Very, very bad idea._

"Sailor." Princess has never heard MacCready's voice sound quite so scared. She knew the look in his eyes. He was ready to give up, and part of her felt the same.

Being blown into pieces by a monster would have been a fitting end to the series of nightmares she had to endure since that awful October morning so many years ago. Maybe it was time she stopped cheating death, anyway.

"Princess…" MacCready's voice grew even more desperate and he placed his hand on top of her own, still clutching his arm. His fingers were ice-cold.

Part of her was happy knowing that MacCready's eyes would be the last thing she saw. Those eyes offered her reassurance so many times, probably without knowing, they would do the same before death as well.

But Princess wanted more. She only had moments to live, there was no doubt about it. There was no time to think things over, to consider the consequences, and dwell on the past.

She finally decided to stop being a coward.

"I love you." Her voice was no more than a shaky whisper, almost drown out by the ticking sound. She wasn’t even sure MacCready has heard her until he released her hand, only to grab her by the hips and pull her to him. Princess threw her arms around his neck, urging him to kiss her. MacCready leaned in, his lips hungrily searching for hers, only to be stopped by an invisible wall.

"No." Princess croaked. She raised her eyes to see that their hats prevented them from getting closer.

"Oh for the love of…" MacCready groaned, grabbing both his and Princess’ hat at the same time, tossing them in the dirt at their feet.

Princess didn't have time to properly say goodbye to her faithful accessory, because suddenly MacCready was kissing her with all the urgency in the world. She sighed as his lips touched hers, way too happily, considering their situation.

MacCready moved his hands to her shoulders, then her face as if he wanted to touch as much of her as possible before they met their gruesome end. Princess tightened her hold around his neck, kissing him even harder. She was running out of breath, and there was still so much she wished to tell him, but she let her actions do the talking instead. She gently bit his lips, and he let out a quiet moan as an answer. That gave Princess enough courage to let her fingers wander to his hair and grab a handful of locks, something she wanted to do for so long.

_Ticktickticktick_. The detonation was close.

Princess opened her mouth, giving way to MacCready's tongue, smiling to herself when she heard a soft, almost animalistic sound leaving his throat.

A loud explosion shook everything around them, and they pulled even closer if possible, just to get that final touch, that final taste…

The shaking has stopped, almost as fast as it started. Princess felt dust tickling her nose, and she slowly opened her eyes as she pulled away from MacCready just enough to look around.

They were… alive. She looked around, and spotted smoke rising from behind a building. Once again she heard the shouts of super mutants, but this time they were mixed with the sound of angry human ones as well. Only one of them was actually audible.

"Ad Victoriam!"

The battle cry was followed by a series of gunshots, the sound of laser rifles, and more laughing.

Princess felt giddy with relief, immediately followed by dread as the realization sank in.

_They were alive._ Not only that, but one of her hands was still in MacCready's hair, the other slid under his duster holding on to his shirt, and he was still cupping her face with his fingers. She just had the hottest make-out session of her life, fully expecting to die.

"You said…" MacCready whispered, not showing any signs of letting her go as the battle raged on a few streets away. Princess heard the whirring sounds of vertibird propellers and the painful cries of both super mutants and Brotherhood soldiers. It all sounded like sweet music to her ears. A full orchestra performing lovely melodies to celebrate her bravery. "What you said… did you mean it?"

Princess smiled and answered with an enthusiastic nod. Of course she did. And she couldn't wait to say them again, and again, and again.

"Sailor…" MacCready started, then shook his head, before correcting himself. "Princess. Can’t believe I finally get to say this. I love you, too."

And then they were both laughing. And kissing again. Princess didn't think a world without her pearls and fashion magazine subscriptions would be so wonderful.

She didn't know how much time has passed before they pulled away, with flushed cheeks and out of breath. It could have been another two hundred years, Princess wouldn't have cared.

"We should help them." Princess said, still unable to tear her hands away from MacCready's. She was scared that once she let him go she’d wake up from the wonderful dream she was having, all alone in the lonely boathouse with no one but Dogmeat to hold on to.

"The hell we should!" MacCready scoffed and stepped away, only to pick up Princess' hat from the ground and place it on top of her head after dusting it off a little. "You're not getting yourself killed because of these clowns."

"But the documents…" Princess bit her lips and winced when once again, the buildings shook with an explosion. She would feel guilty later, for not completing her job, or help her allies in the fight, but she wanted to be happy and selfish for just a little longer.

"Let them rot for another few hundred years, for all I care. I'm not losing you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear passengers, this train terminates at the next station... Angst Station. 
> 
> Okay, I'm half kidding. Do you think I would give this an actual angsty ending? I'm not that awful. But yeah the final chapter is more or less done, I'm just procrastinating actually finishing it, because I'm not ready to say goodbye to this small story yet. Also I don't want these kids to suffer. Well, one of the kids. And just a little bit.
> 
> As usual, kudos, comments, all the lovely things are much appreciated! <3


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